All Against One
by Rice Fields MF
Summary: Guilt has settled in Gohan's mind. Ten-years-old, traumatized, and feeling a emotional sickness overtake him, how can he overcome this growing pain? Sadly, his grief furthers with the death of his beloved mother and would-be sibling. He feels as alone as he did during the Cell Games. Even still, the Briefs family step in to mend what may not be fixable.
1. Chapter 1: Same Darkness

**Chapter 1: Same Darkness**

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Gohan had almost felt numb, but a terrible feeling slowly rose in his chest. It burned and he couldn't bare it. His world shifted as he took a step toward the body of his mother. Groceries were dropped to the floor; an assortment of goods poured from flimsy bags with disregard. Heart registers the pain before his mind could process what he was looking at. Tears mark his face, like so many times before. He suddenly wondered when he would be woken up and called down for breakfast in reality.

His face was wet, the pain was there, and it broke him down further.

This was all too _real_.

The boy had seen many bodies in his youth. That of his mother's was cold to the touch. It made him hesitate for a moment before suddenly wrapping his arms around her corpse. There was little warmth — it left the woman along with her energy's presence. Had someone done this _?_ Had someone killed his mother _?_ Half-saiyan searches her face for an answer, expecting features to be twisted in fear or horror, but instead he finds… _relief_.

He had never seen her so peaceful before in all her years. His mother looked as if she were sleeping. No injuries. No troublesome pulse. No distraught could be found in her final moments. His eyes caught something — gaze moved to the bottles of medicine next to her, each colorfully labeled. Hand slowly reaches out towards one, _DOUBTING_ , and he finds it empty with weak shake.

She had wanted this — she had wanted to **_DIE_**.

A sob finally broke at the realization. He felt a series of emotions colliding into another, furthering his confusion, as they worked their way through his system like a poison.

His mother — his beautiful, caring, and _resilient_ mother had been one of the strongest people in his life. So why _?_ He wanted to shake her, ask the woman why she left him alone, but found no strength to do so.

His mind was cruel. Gnarled with poisonous thoughts, it gave the boy answers he desired.

Her wails haunted him in that moment. She was crying for the husband he might as well have killed with his own hands. The day he came back from that scarring battle, Gohan wasn't joyfully embraced or yelled at in concern; boy was clung to almost lifelessly. This was all his doing...

She was broken because of _him_.

Gohan's weeping continued, louder than before as he tightly hugged the woman. He felt more tears stain, taint him and her. They weren't stopping. The hybrid began to apologize, for everything he had ever done wrong, even the tiniest of mistakes. He didn't expect forgiveness. It could be something he chases after his whole life, but he would never deserve it.

The warrior who had defeated Cell was reduced to what he truly was; a scared _boy_.

* * *

Gohan woke to voices. Slowly stirring, the ten-year-old tried to shift from his uncomfortable position, but quickly found himself unable to do so. He felt a dead weight in his arms. Something heavy, but something gone at the same time. "Oh, _Kami_ , Vegeta they can't be—" _Bulma?_ Why was Bulma here _?_

"The boy's fine." Gohan felt groggy. Eyes blinked open; once, _twice_ , and stared blankly at the couple before it all came together again.

"Then Chi-Chi's…"

His mother was dead.

Youth's heart became frantic as he tried to collect his mother into his arms again. Tears returned and rolled down the same trail they had followed before, soaking into her dress as the boy tries to call her back to him. He showed his weakness to those present and hadn't _cared_.

"Gohan, sweetie, calm down." While the words reached his ears, he couldn't do what was asked of him.

He tried to speak, but words came out jumbled together. Everything collided. It was all just a stream of endless and messy speech. He couldn't even make sense of his own words. Gohan felt he couldn't make sense of anything, anymore.

He _flinches_ suddenly. A hand was placed on his back in comfort. Bulma's, he realized. Mind was protesting; it wanted to reject the warmth. He was least deserving.

Gohan, defeated, looked up to the woman with glassy eyes. He tried again. "I-I came home—af-ter shop-p-ing a-a-and I cou-cou—" A hiccup. "ldn't s-sense h-her and the-then-n…" He choked on his words. "I go-got **scare-d** and- _and_ —" He didn't make sense still. Youth was sure of that.

"Quiet, boy, you can explain it later when you can properly manage your words." Gohan blinked towards the man's direction. Vegeta, standing in the same spot, seemed so _indifference_ to his pain. Mouth closed shut, however, jaw clenching with obedience. Words would fail him, even in the future. Even now when he needed them.

Bulma, casting Vegeta a glare as he left for the car, soon looked back at the kid in front of her. She studied him briefly and thought about what she should do. The child looked so broken as he tried to blink away approaching tears.

Gaze falls back on his stiff parent still clung to like a lifeline.

Today was meant to be a surprise. They were all going to come over, most of them anyways, to greet the remaining two Sons with smiles and food… She had even gotten Vegeta to come over despite his stance against, in his words, pathetic idea. Today was not meant to be _this_.

She sighed, rubbing his back until finally words fell from her own tongue. "Gohan, why don't we go back to my place?"

Dark gaze tears from his mother. Words were whispered, as if the heiress had **offended** the dead. "W-We can't just _le-leave_ her—"

"I know, sweetie, we won't. It's alright." Free hand moves to retrieve a capsule from a back pocket. Small smile was given as she showed it to the Goku's son. It wasn't special. Not designed to keep corpses fresh, not like the ones she had created for Master Roshi and Krillin's bodies so long ago. It was just empty, an _extra_ , and would have to do for now. She would switch them later.

Before any words of protest were put in _(_ she had saw them on his lips _)_ , the body vanished in a faint click. Gohan blinked rapidly, lips trembling, as he watched his mother be taken away from him for a second time.

Something settle in his chest that moment. He felt the weight of whatever it was break his heart into shattered pieces. Gohan couldn't _HOPE_ to be whole again…

The boy doesn't move, weak to the force of gravity as he almost falls into where his mother's mass once was. That was when Bulma helped him to his feet, having to catch and tug him upwards _(_ Kami, he was much more like **LEAD** than previously realized _)_. He didn't have the strength to stand. He never had, not on his own, anyway.

Mindlessly, he allowed himself to be whisked away wherever the other desired. Passed his room, passed photos with family-shaped holes in them, passed groceries that had likely gone bad. He ripped his gaze away from it all, only allowing himself to look downward.

If Bulma was speaking, Gohan wasn't listening. He allowed the silence to drag on between them.

He hadn't even noticed he was in the vehicle until the car door slammed _shut_ ; a captive, now.

From the corner of his eyes, Vegeta stared at the sight of the hybrid. It seemed to scare Gohan's own gaze out a window. Trees were thick with green and animals curiously peeked out from underbrush. The thriving season was a _lie_ — it wasn't as it seemed. Everything was truly dying in his eyes. He may as well be a corpse, too.

* * *

 **I do not own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, or Dragon Ball Super.**

* * *

 **NOTES:** Hey peoples _!_ I am the cruel hand who writes this story. I am a bit rusty, and sort of awkward with my writing, but I still I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter nonetheless. More to come, along with updates on my other story ** _!_**


	2. Chapter 2: Lies and Masks

**Chapter 2: Lies and Masks**

 **Silence** and _nothing_.

No one dared to interrupt it. Inwardly, however, silence hadn't reigned. Gohan's thoughts attacked him. They were cruel, _vicious_ — they refused to leave him alone. Demons had taken away his peace long before now. The boy's mind made ghosts of his mistakes and it left him _hollow_.

He knew it was his fault. There wasn't anyone else to blame or shake his finger at, no one but _himself_. He saw it in his reflection. The youngest warrior couldn't hold his head high anymore nor bare to stare at himself for too long in the mirror. He shouldn't even OWN any.

He wasn't a savior. He wasn't his _father_.

The reflection in the car's window was just as cruel.

He closed his eyes.

Haunting memories of the death of Son Goku, earth's true hero, came. They never went away. The fight, the blood, the power he still **feared**. They would last, and with it, always, the _pain_.

Goku had given him one last lie. Forgiveness. He almost found it laughable now. To truly think such a wondrous thing could ever be offered to him. They were false words and wasted ones on his worthless life...

His father shouldn't have lied. It only served to further darkness.

Then again, Gohan had lied, too... Hadn't he _?_ He promised he would take care of his mom. He promised the man that and _failed_.

In the end, he always did. He would always prove to be a disappointment.

* * *

The car ride had been quiet, and it unsettled Bulma. It made the already long road seem longer. _Still_ , she had numerous calls to make to the others, and court services. First, the news of cancellation and then... what had happened.

She couldn't bring herself to do either in the beginning.

The scientist knew the paperwork of custody would not be so difficult. She was given rights as a legal guardian a few years ago from a worrying Chi-Chi after Namek. Furthermore, she was married. The heiress would be granted custody almost automatically.

Still, the woman never expected this. She would have never wished for it, either.

Bulma had reassured Chi-Chi that nothing was going to happen, not to her or Goku. The latter of the two was meant to make sure of that; even though he was thought to be dead at the time.

It was another lie. Genius or not, anyone could figure that out. She cursed Chi-Chi for her actions.

Finally, the silence was broken.

Bulma _sighed_ , gaze flickering into the rear view mirror at Gohan. He appeared asleep. It was when she noticed something missing. Elbow sticks out to prod the man occupying the seat next to her. "Vegeta, put his seat belt on for him." She doubted the boy even _cared_ ; her own husband never bothered with it. "Don't wake him."

The man grunted. "I highly doubt a car crash would kill the brat. If it did, he is no saiyan."

She rolled her eyes. "Just do it, or next time I'm making you deal with Trunks' _accidents_."

"Hn." The battle was lost.

Vegeta, frown deepening, moved to halfheartedly buckle the safety device in as he leaned over his own seat. The hybrid stirred slightly, mumbling something incomprehensible, but eyes never opened.

If he had woke, Vegeta likely would have blasted the boy into oblivion — then his wife for the notion. He would not admit care. Not for his rival's son.

In the back of his mind, though, Vegeta knew that was an empty threat.

All the while, Bulma pulled her phone off from the dashboard; her eyes would only be off the road for a _second_. Fingers quickly pressed numbers on the touch screen until the first name appeared.

Krillin and Master Roshi first, she supposed.

* * *

Someone was shaking him from resting refuge.

Sleep sometimes, though rarely, was a blessing. It allowed him to forget pain, even if only for a little. In other cases, however, it was just as awful as reality and boy developed _INSOMNIAC_ behaviors because of it. Now, regardless, no nightmare could prove to be worse. It couldn't be compared to this, not in the slightest.

Eyes blinked open and an unfocused gaze fell on the woman in front of him. He was faced with Bulma again. "We're here, Gohan." He merely nodded before he tried to get out. He found himself unable to do so without removing the seat belt strapping him in. Very briefly, the hybrid wondered when he had put it in place.

They walked ahead and he followed without a word behind them. He hadn't bothered to look at much, the place was the same as it always was.

Vegeta had left for the kitchen, while Bulma gave Gohan a worrying look as he stopped promptly in the hall. "Are you hungry?" The woman's question made Gohan look at her and blink.

Was he _hungry?_ The hybrid didn't feel like eating. He hadn't ate, no; his stomach was as empty as him, but he didn't have an appetite for food, either. A meal wouldn't be as filling as it should be, anyways.

He slowly shook his head, gaze again fallen. "No." It was the only response Bulma would receive to the matter.

Another awkward silence settled.

Panchy ruined it. The blonde, short hair to her ears, still was as overflowing with mirth as always. "Oh, Gohan! What a lovely surprise!" The woman ignorant to the atmosphere. "Did you come to see Trunksie— _?_ "

He seems to shrink, almost stepping back and wondering if distance would be his savior here. Bulma was quick to recuse the boy, however.

"Mother, could you give us a moment? He's— Gonna stay here. I'll talk to you and dad soon about it, okay?" The blonde only gives an owlish blink, now wondering what could possibly be upsetting the youth. Hands go to cup her face with the faint words of _oh dear_. She departs, but notbefore making Gohan know he was always welcomed, promising her cookies and to make it feel like _HOME_. Laughable, he thinks, but the heiress sighs in relief.

It was after she left Bulma decided to address things. "Well, I need to... Fill out some paper work, but Gohan, the guest's room is just to the right of Trunks'." She points to the door. "And ours is on the opposite side of it." She paused before continuing. "If you need anything, just shout." A grin was given to the boy.

While Gohan nodded and did his best to return a smile, he felt he couldn't be selfish to ever ask for a thing. Still... "B-Bulma."

"Yes?" Slender eyebrow rose to him.

Eyes are clenched shut, though he isn't entirely sure why. "T-Thank you."

"No problem, kid." Her smile widened just slightly. "Anyways, really, if you need anything." She soon added, "And I'll have someone bring you a few pair of spare clothes." The renowned genius hadn't even thought to grab anything before they left the Son household.

* * *

The door shut and Gohan was, for once, thankful for isolation. His strength was leaving him again. He wondered how he managed it all before. Walking seemed like an impossible task now as he approached the bed lifelessly. He was tired.

Sleep tended to be a rare thing in-between nightmares.

For the moment, though, Gohan didn't want to _feel_. He didn't want to think or dwell. He wanted sleep to carry him away, bad dreams or not. Some part of him, cruelly, also wished he wouldn't wake again.

He didn't bother to climb underneath covers, he practically fell into the mattress. Face buried into the pillow, _hiding_ , crying again.

Oh, _Kami_ , why had be been so **stupid** then _?_

No... He didn't deserve to pray, either. He couldn't pester god. Dende had better things to do than waste time on someone as worthless as him.

Gohan's mistakes were his _own_.

* * *

No one woke him. He roused on his own accord. What time was it?

An alarm clock, red eyes glaring at the youth, sat on a nightstand just across from him. _5:17 AM_. No one would be awake but him... Surely not.

The boy groans and rolls over. He didn't feel like getting up, but something compelled him to.

Gohan sat up and slumped, as though tugged by strings.

Shower. He was certain he needed one. He looked around the room, searching, until eyes spotted the clothes he was promised. The boy willed himself to them. They were too _big_. It was then he realized they were Vegeta's garments. The hybrid wasn't going to complain.

A shower later, Gohan journeys to the kitchen. His stomach practically _begged_ him for food now.

He stopped when he realized he wasn't alone. Vegeta was making coffee.

Gohan nervously offered a soft, "Good morning," to which the older saiyan didn't respond to. The man hadn't even bother to accept the younger saiyan's presence yet.

Fingers curled into the shirt then, and the hybrid decides to add, "T-Thanks for the clothes..." He awkwardly shifted on feet.

Finally, Vegeta looked at the boy. "Thank the woman." A sip of his drink. "They are disgusting to look at."

While Gohan uncomfortably laughed, he was unsure of what else to do or say. He was hungry, though, and the boy had to pass Vegeta to get to the fridge.

"What do you want?"

"I u-uh... Just wanted something to eat, sir." He felt he needed permission.

"I have a name, use it." The prince snorted. "We have been over this once before."

Gohan nodded and corrected himself. "Vegeta."

"Well, I'm not stopping you, _am I?_ Go on. I don't care what you do." Eyes narrowed on the boy. "Just don't touch the sushi."

Gohan nervously bobbed his head once in response before warily walking to the fridge. He finds it nearly packed with leftovers and the food meant to brought over to his house... With a combination of both, near-full plate is tossed into the microwave.

It was then Bulma entered the kitchen next, yawning and stretching with a robe hanging around her form. She blinked at the two and smiled. "Mornin', boys." She scratched the back of her head. "Guess we're all early birds today, huh?"

Gohan, as he wanted for the food seeming to take forever, responded politely. "G-Good morning— _u-um_ , t-thanks for the clothes."

"Huh? Oh yeah, no problem." She casted Vegeta a suspicious look. Bulma wasn't _dumb_ and the saiyan should have known better. Stupid _pride_.

She returned her attention to the hybrid and frowned. "Do you want actual breakfast, Gohan? I mean, I can cook something up at least." In truth, she hadn't felt like cooking — her meals tended to be **ALIVE** again at that, somehow. For the kid, though, _( her_ kid now, Bulma supposes _)_ , she would _try_.

"O-Oh— N-No, no. T-This is fine. Thank you, t-though." He never wanted to be an inconvenience.

 _The half-saiyan found he always was._

A beep resounds to crush what was an almost silence.

Gohan stared down at the plate of food he retrieved from the microwave. It wasn't his mom's cooking. They didn't even have a microwave oven in their home — and it wasn't just a matter of not being able to _afford_ one. His mother found them silly and pointless. That, and they were certainly dangerous.

Still, the boy ate. He knew there were set sets of eyes watching him. Small smile, big bite.

All he needed to do was act this part — grin and lie about his happiness. That was what his life amounted to anyways, right?

This was just a another game of pretending.

* * *

 **I do not own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, or Dragon Ball Super.**

* * *

 **NOTES:** This was a bit tricky, but here it is nonetheless. I will hopefully be getting up another chapter for "Change of Heart" later tonight too (or I'll start on it at the very least)! I will do my best to manage both stories. :D

* * *

 **MeganRouth:** I am terrible, I know. xD And golly thanks _!_ I'm super glad you liked it. Hope this chapter was just as good _!_ Thank you for leaving a review. It means a ton _!_ :)


	3. Chapter 3: Fanning the Flames

**Chapter 3: Fanning the Flames**

"Gohan, you ready?" Bulma's voice resounded from the other side of the doorway.

"I'll be out in a moment." Dull response. All he needed was one last look in the mirror. His own eyes judge, picked him apart. A lack of peaceful sleep showed. Buttons, at the very least, were correctly in placed.

Turning away, he walked to leave the room that had been his for a week's time. Bulma with a near year old trunks in arms, alongside Vegeta, waited outside.

They were all dressed for a funeral.

* * *

In death, flames were the last judge to someone's life in the Ox Kingdom. Embers would consume all. After well-crafted words and blessings, the ceremony was supposed to conclude in a cremation on a bed of collected flowers. His mother would have been burned, but protest from his grandfather, hopeful in the Dragon Balls, ended the idea. His subjects were left ignorant.

In a body's stead, something needed to replace it. Something precious.

The custom was lost on Gohan.

As cruel joke, though, his mind almost made him want to volunteer for the part.

The boy knew better, though. His grandfather was going to be without his daughter for the remainder of life. His mother wasn't coming back. It was the same case as his father. She wouldn't want to return. Even if she did want to take it back, would the dragon even grant someone who had killed them self life again? He found it unlikely all the same. Chi-Chi had chosen her own time of death. His mother was probably happy, laughing at her husband's side.

And here he was.

Did the woman even know? Did she ever think about how much he needed her?

He would not put his trust in Shenron. He cursed the Dragon Balls' existence in that moment.

He hadn't noticed Krillin approach to stand next to him.

"Hey, bud. I'm... I'm sorry about your mother," He felt a hand on his shoulder. "But you know, things like this just happen sometimes," Gohan didn't want to listen anymore. He silently wished for Krillin to _quiet_. "But it won't last."

Things like this just _happen?_ No, his mother was supposed to live her life, die of old age—not of heartbreak! Gohan blankly stared at the man before returning his gaze at the preparations before him. More foliage was needed.

The last part of the monk's statement was alluding, it implied something more. Everyone seemed to have faith in the starred-balls but him. They relied too much on the orbs. He at one point had been just as hopeful as them.

"Thanks Krillin." A lie. They weren't genuine words of gratitude. He wished the other would have kept his mouth closed.

A few more people came near to offer condolences. Comforting words, apologetic looks. All pity for him. While he accepted it outwardly, in his mind he disregarded it all. His grandfather deserved it more than him.

Yamcha had been beyond awkward. He was on time, though. For once. Pu'ar continued to sob into his shirt and Oolong offered failed jokes at the side of Master Roshi. His father's former teacher had been quiet for the most part. He only requested of Gohan that he would not blame himself. The hermit was as wise as his years, though the pervert did not often show it.

Laughable, ludicrous. He couldn't bring himself to even falsely smile. He wanted to leave.

He truly wondered why none of them resented him. Maybe they did, and like him, they were hiding it beneath some flimsy mask. After all, Gohan had taken away two of the most important people from the world.

A series of crackles emerged.

Last of the fuel was poured, and suddenly a fire came to life at a simple spark. Embers consumed what should have been his mother.

Her wedding dress.

Gohan heard stories of this particular wear before. It had been in the family for a few generations, supposedly. He found it ironic that the dress his grandfather protected so desperately all those years ago was now being burned to nothingness.

The fire climbed and licking embers melted embroidered designs. The veil blackened. The kingdom's people looked on the sight with sorrow.

Vegeta had stood away from it all, sulking in silence. Bulma seemed to refuse to leave his side.

The heat was intense on his face. He was standing closest to to the looming flames.

The hybrid's lungs felt as charred as the wedding dress. A short spout of coughs emerged from the boy thereafter. "Maybe we should stand back, Gohan." Smoke was getting in Bulma's eyes.

Simply nodding seemed to be his response for a lot of things nowadays.

The last to face him was his grandfather. His features, rough and worn, reflected sorrow. "I have something for you." In large hands, a letter was held. He offered it his grandson, who merely stared at it.

Mouth opened to speak, but soon closed. Brows furrowed together. Was this his mother's farewell? He hesitated, but rid of it to take the note in his own grip. It wasn't addressed to anyone in particular.

Envelope was torn open. Fingers slowly, carefully pulled the written words out from within.

He unfolded the paper and drew in a breath.

* * *

 _To Whom It May Concern,_

 _I can't remain here, I'm afraid. I have found my resilience has begun to wear away, little by little, and soon there will be no skin left on me. I have barely hung on throughout the years. The first death of my husband was a weight on my heart I couldn't bare. How I managed, by some miracle, came in the form of my son. After Goku's supposed second death, I was but a thread, despite my demeanor. The third, and the news of not wishing to come back home to us, had made me realize something—the sheer permanency of death. It was lasting, eternal, forevermore. Life is meant to be cherished though it would someday end. My eyes have lost the ability to see its color and beauty, so I've decided it's time. The afterlife is meant to be a promise. Death reunites and I will be with my husband once more._

 _Daddy, I will make sure mother knows how well you're doing and make my custom reasonings known to you. I couldn't grant Gohan a similar life to my own, but know he will be in well hands. I'm sure the news has already found its way to you. Do not dwell on my death, this is what I wanted and wished for myself._

 _Bulma, watch over Gohan in my place. Make sure he takes care of himself. You will do a far better job, he deserves better than me. I have little right to motherhood now, as I am. As I were, I suppose._

 _And Gohan, keep your studies up. I may not be by your side anymore, but imagine me there, should the idea not hinder your advancement. I know you can make something great of yourself. You already have. Further it._

 _I'm sorry, this is my farewell. It is temporary, though. We will all see each other one day again. Still, I hope none of you follow my path. Even now, I have regrets. Enjoy life, live it, and find the meaning I have long lost._

 _— Chi-Chi_

* * *

Gohan stared blankly at words. He began to reread... Again and again, each word hung on just the briefest moment too long. The letter was now held with disbelief—he was expecting more, he was expecting something _else._ The boy wasn't sure what, but he knew he wouldn't find it in the inked paper before him.

Some part of him, the weakest, wanted to cry again. The others would have found it to be a proper reaction of grief. At least then, he would have been showing an emotion since being here.

Another part, the greater of the two, wanted it to disappear. He wanted to erase the words, cross them out, rid of them entirely.

He did just that. The paper was crinkled, accidentally torn in a tight grip, before he let it go. The letter was tossed into the fire without a second though. Its fate was to become ashes.

Now, her last words only remained in his memory.

Worried looks. The mask was slipping. Watching as the final corner of his mother's letter crumbled into ashes, Gohan turned away from the heat. He was leaving. He was _running_.

"Gohan?" Bulma's hand reached out for him. The woman found little freedom to do so with Trunks. "Wait—" Shouting seemed to to alert the baby in her arms. Her son began to cry. "Vegeta!" Both were already gone.

* * *

 **I do not own Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, or Dragon Ball Super.**

* * *

 **AN:** Phew. I am not sure how I did on the farewell letter (or in this chapter in general). I haven't written much like it before. Diaries aren't my thing, either. xD Anyways, hope it was at least a half-decent read. Things in this story will soon take a shift. Get ready for a little action (or I guess in the following chapters after depending?) and thanks for looking!

"Change of Heart" is getting a chapter update soon, too! I am currently rewriting it as I hated how it came out the first time. So I got frustrated and decided to write this instead. LOL.

* * *

 **Jewelled Boots:** Oh wow thank you! This means a lot and you're quite welcome. Thank you for reading. ;^; I hope to continue to write chapters you will enjoy and capture emotions in their purest form.

 **daisukigohan:** Aww thanks! It is a fun genre to write for some reason. Both of them actually. xD And yes, things are bad for him. (...I am an awful person). And no worries, updates will continue to come! I have scribbled a bunch of chapter ideas down in my notes and that will help with it! Same for my other story, too.


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